The Men on Mars
Page 10
The further out from Saturn, the slower the web-sat ran. I glared at the holo-screen as it crawled past Piloting 101 and 102, Advanced Physics and Interplanetary Travel, and Repairs on the Fly classes, before it finally let me click through Rocket Core Dynamics. Halfway down the list of names I found my grade. Yup. As I suspected, I’d passed that test with barely a glance at the e-text. Awesome! I only needed four more class credits and twenty hours’ training time to become an officially licensed interplanetary pilot. Not that that stopped me from manning our new ship whenever I felt like it. I knew the deck controls like I knew the fueling station price list.
Not long ago, we’d returned Zebot’s cruiser to him with a lump of credits as repayment for its use. It had only taken an arrest, a trial, and an acquittal before we’d managed to escape back to Mars. After the moon debacle, we’d landed on Earth, home sweet home, or so I’d hoped. I’d been there less than a week when my mom had managed to have me arrested again. Forget happy family reunions, the prodigal daughter, and all that. She had a new boyfriend and a new baby daughter. Apparently my presence reminded her of her old life, and she couldn’t handle that, so off to lock-up I went.
Freddy had wanted to break me out of jail using force, but Nate reined him in and found me a top lawyer who specialized in abuse cases. The lawyer took the time to reframe my stepdad’s death, not only in the eyes of the jury, but in my eyes as well. Nothing felt quite so good as a “not guilty” verdict and hard-won self-forgiveness.
Nate entered through the hatch and spied the holo screen. “How’d you do?”
I grinned. “Hundred percent, of course.”
“How much does Freddy owe you now?”
“Two thousand credits.”
Nate shook his head. “That man needs a Gambling Anonymous pit stop. He’s betting against the wrong girl.”
“Yeah, but I think he knows it motivates me.” I hugged Nate’s waist, resting my cheek against his soft shirt. “Any news of Ju?”
“Nothing.” He didn’t have to say it, but we both felt that the moon people’s silence gave us the answer. Still we’d keep trying to get something definite, for Daed’s sake and our own. Until we heard for sure, there was still hope. Right?
Oh, why a new ship? Nate had had every intention of returning to his fueling station job, but while trapped on Earth for my trial, we’d learned a lot more about the political situation, the “religious cleansing,” i.e., government-sanctioned genocide. Millions wished to escape Earth as refugees, but they either didn’t have the means to get off-planet, or the government prevented them from doing so. So we found some backers, some pretty odd sources -- but that’s another story, and now our goal is to help as many earthlings escape as possible. We’d had a couple of successful runs already, with Daed, Tracha, and Freddy still on our crew, but we’d be ready to do this full time as soon as I graduated.
Nate was nuzzling my ear, totally distracting me from my plan to find Freddy and rub his nose in my success. “You know, that chair looks mighty comfortable,” he whispered, hot breath on my ear. I glanced at the chair in question and thought about the first time we’d shared it, shortly after blasting off from Mars.
“You know, it does look damn comfy.” I grinned, helping Nate remove my shirt as he guided me onto his lap. Freddy could damn well wait. My fiancé and I had a few better things to do.
Shara Lanel
Shara began her writing life at the age of five, creating those little About Me books with the balloon on the back. She finally managed publication in high school, writing and editing the Entertainment Page in the school paper, and she toyed with the idea of being a rich and famous author.
Of course, there was a large period of time during which she planned to be an astronaut or rock star, whichever came first. But since neither of those careers panned out, she went to college in New York City to study film.
A fellow writer, who shall remain nameless, implored Shara to "come to the Dark Side,"-- referring to writing erotic romance -- so she did, and now she may never go back. She's having too much fun writing the sexy, sinful stuff she loves to read. In fact, she's pretty good at it, and the research is fantastic.
Oh, get your mind out of the gutter! Research, as in background for creating her authentic characters and settings. For example, Shara recently participated in her local Citizens' Police Academy, and had a blast shooting things, meeting sexy SWAT guys, and riding around in cop cars during high speed chases. All in the name of research for her books, of course.
Shara lives in Richmond, Virginia with her husband, son, and ancient cocker spaniel. When she's not writing, she's killing chile plants, setting fires in her oven, and avoiding housework at all costs.
Visit her on the web at www.sharalanel.com, and she loves to hear from her readers at sharalanel@comcast.net.